A/N: Written because I needed more of the Warriors Three, especially flirty but loyal Fandral, and pre-canon Thor and Loki. Also craved more of fatherly Odin like water in a desert.
WARNING: Some flirty scenes, including a kissing scene with Loki and Fandral. None get graphic or move beyond kissing. Used to prove my Loki's a romantic demisexual, which would be queer alongside any other sexuality in Asgard that is not heterosexual. Not Loki/Fandral (you'll see).
Fandral could never understand why the prince never said anything.
Nothing that would keep his honor.
Nothing that would be a cry for help.
Nothing that would clear his name.
And now, as he stands hiding behind the shadows of an empty cell looking upon who claims his friend's face and body and cleverness while the night is not so young anymore, he desperately wants to ask why.
Why? Because somewhere deep inside him, he just knows this is not the true face of the younger prince. It's burning him from the inside out that nonetheless the once-prince winds himself so deep in its threads and cloths that all minus a few believe this has been the prince who walked their halls all along, just lurking for the right moment to break free.
So, Fandral crouches in the shadows of the Aesir dungeons. Is it possible that he who is amongst the few is wrong? He digs through his memory while he watches the prisoner toss beams of harmless seidr off his walls.
#
This so-called Loki is cruel. This so-called Loki verbally assaulted a female, so he heard, and despite Fandral's disinterest in small mortals, she was nonetheless a female. If he were to step back in time to tell younger, saner Loki what this Loki would come to say to the woman, he would have his jaw punched out of its hinges and all his ribs broken into shards in a blink, though popular culture knew of no such side of the prince.
They interpreted another, and he could remember when it began.
The Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and the princes returned from a journey to Alfheim one spring day of the same year Mjolnir first chose Thor. He, of course, suggested they stop at Brynjar's Bar to regain their strength. Unbeknownst to them, the day they arrived was a special holiday for the half Aesir and half Vanir employees of the place. Not only did the entrees come in double portions for the same price, and the boarding wage remain half-priced, but Lady Dagmar and her renowned Vanir women graced each corner with their enticing scents of silks, satins, quartz, and lotions.
"Look at that show," said Volstagg, pointing to a stunning bronze one unclothing herself from her drapes of sky blue silk in the lap of another warrior.
Lady Sif rolled her eyes. "End your slavering and eat your food."
"Else what?" Fandral retorted.
"I leave."
"Oh, dear Sif, you are in a man's land. You had better acquaint yourself soon."
"You blockheads assume you are men because you can see over tables, however your brains are nothing more than a 200-year-old's capacity."
Thor chuckled. "Perhaps, but you must admit our boyish minds have fine taste."
"Precisely. Dagmar and company are as fine as they come, is that not so my big friend?"
"I loathe agreeing with you but I must confess 'tis true," said Volstagg.
Another insult hung at the edge of Sif's tongue, but something caught her eye. Her cheeks went from agitated pink to infuriated fire. "Norns, I hate you all. Slivering, disgusting, immoral cows..."
While she went on grumbling and ravaging her entree, the young warriors turned to find the source of her seething wrath. Loki, who'd gone to fetch more drinks, had been stopped by Lady Dagmar herself.
"Who would have thought little brother would catch her eye first?" said Fandral as he leaned as close to the table as possible to see everything. Thor crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, watching with such a proud grin that only his victory one could match its pride.
Her dainty fingers plucked the tinted mugs out of his hands and set them down on the table she backed him up against. She took small, dancing steps closer while her sunset-red nails tickled the side of his neck.
He pushed her draping golden locks behind her shoulder with the tenderness of a dove, which encouraged the doe-eyed queen of hearts to lean in for a kiss. Though she was renowned for her patience in seducing gentlemen, she had given herself unknowingly into the arms of an even more patient prince. She was the one to melt into the soft kisses, the one to ache for more.
Being the most respected out of all the lover ladies there, it was more than just Loki's party who watched, hence why there was a more or less a collective silence of surprise when Lady Dagmar stole his embracing hands and placed them above her mustard yellow satin sash, yet he refused to unclothe her. Instead of baring her, his hands found their place underneath her arms, just above her naked waist. And he kissed the crook of her neck.
In moments she was the one sent in a frenzy. She broke away from him, pulling him towards where the rooms were, but the younger prince would not budge. With his last curious kiss he ran his fingers deep into her locks, and before his goodbye one, he whispered something that left her rosier than a satisfied lover.
He picked up the drinks again and rejoined his group.
"Brother, stop gawking. It is impolite," he chided the older prince still staring at Lady Dagmar. "Brynjar said all our drinks are on the house, so here, drink to your belly's content."
Then he set Volstagg and Fandral's drinks down. "You two on the other hand had better not. I do mind helping a drunk who is not my brother home."
"Noted," both replied at once.
He shed his jacket and sat. Lady Sif glared at him, then pinched her lips when he noticed. "I hate you. But I currently hate you least."
Loki smiled. "Thank you?"
"Speak another word and I shall cut your tongue out."
Thor faced forward in his seat and took up his mug with a sigh. "Bloody Hel, brother, you missed a most splendid opportunity."
The younger shrugged. "She is lovely, but it was not the right time."
"No, see here, I must teach you a lesson I call 'letting loose.' Drink this. I will fetch myself another."
"Thor, I agree to intoxication for reasons unlike yours. Drink it yourself. I am fine."
That was when Lady Dagmar returned. She tapped the younger's shoulder, and he turned. With a beam he stood up to let her take his seat.
"Please, it would be a pleasure," he encouraged when she was hesitant about the rest of the staring warriors. She sat, he draped his jacket over her shoulders, and then pulled another chair for himself. "I would buy you a drink, dear, but I fear that would rush our friendship."
The woman laughed. "Indeed, but I rarely drink. Did I smell Alfheim meadows on you, or was that my dreams speaking?"
He lit up. "Yes, my friends and I voyaged there. Have you ever made acquaintance with a Meadow Elf?"
"No, but I hear they harvest the sun and moon! I've dreamed of holding a starlight necklace since I was but a lass."
"My brother and I acquired some as a gift," joined Thor, "If it be your desire then we can gift it to you."
Volstagg chuckled. "In that case I will gift you my portion as well."
Just like that the group warmed to chatting with the most beautiful woman in the bar.
But just like that, the not so beautiful rumors began about the younger prince too.
#
This so-called Loki had not a drop of love. This so-called Loki had no consideration whatsoever for anyone other than himself.
Four centuries or so years ago, Fandral had learned the facts were quite opposite in a way he never would have expected. He walked in on the younger drinking Elvish wine, or he had been because the prince balanced on the line between tipsy and drunk. When the shadow noticed his presence, he blinked out of his melancholy and shouldered into monstrous agitation.
"Do any of you know what it means to knock?" he all but yelled.
"You...drank."
"Yes, well I am bothered. Get out."
Fandral shut the door and locked it behind him, just to encourage himself to push on despite the prince's mood. He sat on the edge of Loki's emerald colored bed while the other uncurled himself from the sofa near his window.
"What are you bothered about?"
"Everyone, everything, everywhere."
"Can you be a bit more specific?"
The younger released a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. "I have a better proposition. Let us have you answer why the Hel you are in my room."
"I am here because I am your friend, Loki. Maybe not the best of a friend, but a friend after all."
"What are you beating at then friend?"
The warrior let the brutal sarcasm go over his head. "I was there when you refused to dance with the princess of Nidavellir, and heard all the whispers you no doubt heard."
That ignited Loki's blazing anger, evident by the way the younger set his jaw. Fandral ducked out of the way just before the flying wine bottle could shatter on his head.
"I. Do. Not. Care."
"Of course you do. That happened four feasts ago yet the gossip has yet to fade."
Loki sneered at the carpet below, fingers curling into his palm. "Get out."
"Just answer this. Are you homosexual?"
That earned him a stare sharper than a two-edged sword. "Get. the Hel. Out."
"Are you or not? Because if you are I have to tell your mother. She approached me more than once, you know."
The prince's fury softened into something Fandral could't quite place his finger on. "What did she want?" he whispered.
"For me to find you a woman. If...if you are not attracted to women, then perhaps I could find you a shapeshifting male. He could be to Asgard's liking in public, but to, uh, your liking when you...you know."
"Listen, I have a refined taste—"
Fandral felt the anxiety in his throat loosen. "So you do like women?"
The prince sat up arrow straight in his chair, glaring at the warrior. "You did not let me finish. I have a refined taste in lovers. If I find them, male or female, pleasing to spend time with, then yes, I would have them. However, my tastes lean towards those who have wombs."
"So...women."
"Likely."
Fandral sighed. "Then what in all the Nine Realms made you think the princess unattractive? She is of age, tall, opinionated as you...has a womb."
"She was up to the center of my chest."
"True, but she is the tallest and most delicate dwarf to ever grace Nidavellir royalty. You could have agreed if not for her sake then for yours."
Loki clicked his tongue, then shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "I do not consider a fawning girl with no sense of individuality to be graceful enough."
Fandral rolled his eyes behind his hands. "Do you have any idea what people say of you?"
"You did mention one accusation."
"There is a more repulsive one."
Loki grinned. "Yes, I know. Odin forbid the shadow prince is asexual."
That made Fandral's agitation sharpen. "If you know then why do you not fend for your damn honor? You're a damn prince for Norns' sake!"
Minutes of silence passed without any of the two saying or doing a thing. Then, Loki rose. With each word he neared his friend.
"Because as I like it, I relish in knowing that those who have experience with me know better. Why should I throw my private being out into the public when they twist anything for more gossip? I am what I am, I love how I love, and I love whom I love."
Then, the unexpected happened. Loki bent to Fandral's eye level, and placed a kiss on his lips. Before the warrior could say a word, he covered his mouth.
"As I said, I have a refined taste. Seeing as you cannot comprehend it with that narrow mind of yours, I figure I should let you be one to experience it. Though I should let you know that the small demonstration you will experience is less than my usual passion, considering you are not my ideal lover."
There was another kiss, then another, and another. But each he received grew softer and kinder, tenderer and more passionate, but never desperate.
Fandral himself, who intoxicated the most prudish of women, grew intoxicated with the scent and touch of Loki. Even stranger was though the prince coaxed him back into his pillows with nothing more than running his fingers through his hair and kisses from his lips to his neck, it was that that turned on the dashing warrior like never before.
Button by button the younger undid his shirt, and with each new patch of exposed skin rained more kisses down on him. The tenderness wrapped around his chest and became a bolt of tickling shock in his spine.
"Norns..." the Warrior sighed.
"Shut up," Loki whispered in such a tone it made him shiver, and came back up to his lips.
It was when Fandral reached past the prince's waist that Loki gave him a last trail of kisses. The younger left the thrilled warrior for his wardrobe. Fandral blinked half a dozen times and sat up, starting at his open shirt.
"You might as well finish me, princeling."
Loki flung his nightwear over his arm and spun around. "I said I would give you a small demonstration. I also said you are not my ideal lover, thus I refuse to mar my consummations with the likes of you."
"But you've me ready. Why not chase the thrill?"
Loki read deeper than his sentence. He scowled. "You think this was a confession of hidden feelings. I love to burst your fantasies dear friend: it was nothing of the sort. Now get out so I can change."
Fandral leaned back on the wall, combing back the tufts of his golden hair with a smirk. "I have a question. How many bedmates have you had?"
To his surprise, Loki did not look bothered by the question at all. "Dagmar Otisdottir, Tegan Cavanaughdottir, and Blaine Dennison."
"Did Blaine have a womb?"
Loki glared at him for a moment. "You will not be leaving, will you?"
"Astute."
To which the younger tossed his nightwear on his chair and proceeded to change while he talked. "Indeed. Blaine is a birther in his race."
"Why so much attraction to those with wombs?"
"You must consider your consummation could create life, which therefore leads you to strive to satisfy your partner, who holds the most sacred place of the whole Nine Realms in their body. The last thing you should wish is to have them unsatisfied."
Fandral had to give it to him. He was quite lovely even underneath his clothes. "Right. And what makes you choose your lovers?"
"A deep friendship."
"And you are still friends with your three mates?"
"Of course. I met Lady Tegan again in the meadows of Alfheim for the celebration of her conception two feasts ago. I write to Lady Dagmar and Sir Blaine until our paths cross again. And no, before you ask, I do not have them when we do meet again, unless the moment is right. Which brings me to our conclusion, good friend."
Loki threw his daily clothes to the dirty pile for the maids and wend to his armoire to snatch up his comb. "Though you were a titillating distraction, you alas are not my type for more reasons than one. I would request that you not share this happened, lest someone I care about come to a false conclusion about my sexuality."
"Good Norns... I snogged a prince."
Loki slammed his comb down and whirled around, seething. "Does that pathetic mind of yours have the capacity to listen to someone who does not have breasts?"
Fandral beamed at him. "That was wondrous."
"You haven't even been listening at all!"
But he had been, and he agreed eventually.
As the years passed both matured, but neither held any more attraction than they had before the act. They remained friends, sometimes bickering just as much as Fandral and Volstagg, but there was a strange pang in the dashing warrior's throat when he caught Loki lead one single bedmate to his rooms between that night and the night before his fall.
It panged not because he loved him, or wished for their night to happen again, but because he wished others could understand Loki's most devoted way of loving.
So how was it he could lose such unshakable respect and unwavering tenderness in what felt like a blink? Not just towards lovers, but towards his own friends and family.
#
This so-called Loki did not need anything from anyone or do anything for anyone. This so-called Loki seethed with an air of independence he would never thin out.
Two centuries or so before, Loki had still been in training. And a trainer.
Lady Sif, agitated at how she continuously missed the bullseye, hollered across the breezy training grounds for him. Once he reached her, Fandral and Hogun decided to listen in on how to 1) deal with an angry Sif and 2) hold a bow and arrow best. With the younger being best at wielding compact weapons, she listened with the least of a frown, that is until he finished his rundown.
"I did do that!" She aimed for the target just to prove it again, but her arrow crashed into a tree to the side of it. "I hate bows and arrows. Unless they are on fire they are useless pieces of material."
"Do you call a harp broken if you do not know how to play it?"
"No..." she grumbled.
"Precisely." He took her bow, then got into position. "This is how you hold a bow. Hogun, do you have an extra arrow?" The grim Warrior nodded and handed him one. "So, hold your index finger out towards your target, place the arrow on top, then pull the middle of the string backwards with your first two fingers holding the back of the arrow straight. Do not move anything but your fingers when you shoot."
He let the arrow fly, which landed in the center of the bullseye.
Sif just gawked. "Are you blind? I did that!"
"You did partially, but you raised your shoulders too high. If you shoot with too much tension in your grip then your arrow will shoot too far off track." He resumed his usual posture and held the bow out to her. "Try again."
With a huff, she grabbed it back. She glared at it for a moment, then at Loki before she assumed position.
"Take a small step back with your right foot."
"Why the Hel do I need to do that?"
Loki barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and Fandral caught Hogun breaking a smile. "Because your back will not cramp up if you plan to practice longer than for two shots."
"You say this to make me look like an idiot."
"No I am not—"
She spun around towards her other friends. "Did you see him step back like an idiot?"
Fandral shook his head with a grin, but Hogun just crossed his arms.
Loki huffed this time. "Sif, I am taller than you. I do not need to—"
She recoiled towards him. "Oh really? You know then that I can kick something very tender without taking a precious step back."
"I am trying to help you, woman!"
"Did...did you just call me 'woman?'"
Loki kneaded his forehead. "Norns help me... Would you just shoot the damn arrow?"
Lady Sif growled under her breath, but she did assume position, even taking a step back. She let another of Hogun's arrows fly, which touched down at the edge of the bullseye.
While Loki tried to hide his gloating grin, Lady Sif tried to pretend she had nothing to apologize or thank him for. The younger prince did not seem to mind.
Yet now Fandral saw something different at the memory. Behind the satisfied grin lay the pain of not being appreciated. After all, if Thor had been the better archer, then they would have called upon him for help, and if he had, then none would have dreamed to leave their thanks unspoken.
It pained him to think of how often that scenario replayed during their adventures together in some sort of similarity. It pained him to think of how many thank-yous Loki never received.
Odin forbid how many thank-yous Thor received when it was Loki who deserved them, which reminded him of one particular instance not too long ago.
#
This so-called Loki killed for a throne. This so-called Loki never stopped spewing out black words, especially at the mention of his older brother.
Four decade or so before, no two brothers could compare to them. They were black and white, yin and yang. They were at their best when in each other's presence, even when the younger started wearing blinds over his soul.
Then came the adventure that proved how much the universe needed them to be at arms together, forever.
Two of the Warriors, Lady Sif, and Thor journeyed to Muspelheim to stop a violent uprising between the orthodox giants and liberal giants.
The orthodox ones followed the commands of Surtur, their king, who was and still is an angry creature focused on destroying Asgard's role as peacekeeper. The liberal ones were no better, but they were craftier. These followed a radical named Cuxto, who believed their king had too small goals for too high of a price. Their objective was to take over Asgard to gain complete access of the Bifrost - the gate to all worlds - then rule all the realms.
What started as a ragtag uprising spawned into half of Muspelheim fighting the other half. So passionate had the civil war become that it threatened to spill into neighboring realms.
Thus, Thor and his friends were sent to end the war. Loki had stayed behind in the healing chambers, for he had caught a mysterious virus that started with minor enough symptoms, yet by each hour drained gallons of life out of him. By the third day, no one in Asgard seemed capable of curing it. (Later the boy would come to realize it was a fatal disease akin to parasites in Aesir blood but that ravaged Frost Giants specifically. It carried from an infected corpse of a Frost Giant in the dungeons, to Aesir guards, then to palace workers until the virus met and destroyed him.)
Fandral had also been kept in Asgard. Thor told him to stay behind to heal from a shoulder injury wrought on by a bout he'd broken up at the bar a night before. The golden prince assumed the battle would not last long.
He was wrong.
At first the Warriors and Thor along with the element of surprise crippled some of the uprise, but when it became obvious that such a small group threatened the Fire Giants, the two sides formed a truce to kill the trespassing Aesir.
Odin received news of the development from Heimdall, Frigga from Odin, and Loki from Frigga by accident.
Through the younger prince's delirium from half a dozen different spells and medications fermenting in his body, he latched onto the stable sound of his mother, who stood near his bed. Sometimes she talked, sometimes she ran her fingers through his hair, but mostly she did both.
She wished she could rip the disease out of him to suffer it instead, then switched over to how annoyed she was that Thor had to battle with his hands all the time ("Just like your father"). The All-Mother dropped hints of the danger the gang had put themselves in without realizing her youngest was conscious enough to comprehend. Though she said an army of Aesir had been sent to help, the truth was that it was difficult to kill a Fire Giant.
The worst development however was Thor. Not only was he in danger, but he was danger that no one could stop.
Once his father escaped from hearings, he joined Loki's side as well. The warrior of old took his boy's skeletal hand and placed it against his cheek while Frigga, as usual, gave him the lowdown ("Nothing is working, my heart. You must consult the Black Book,") then combusted in annoyance towards Thor's rashness. She ended her daily outpouring crying angry tears at how she could lose both sons by morning.
When Odin demanded she leave to take a walk for some fresh air, the younger took advantage of their intimacy.
"Father," he whispered, reaching out for his familiar leather fingers.
Odin stilled. "Yes?"
"I can—" he swallowed bitter nausea from the lights swimming in his sight "—help Thor."
Fandral, who'd been waiting not too far from Loki's infirmary room for a checkup, snuck as close as he could to hear more.
"You are not strong enough. Now rest, my boy."
Loki tried to shake his head, but the tendons in his neck throbbed. Instead, he groaned. "I can do it. I can — help."
Odin released a sound somewhere between a distressed sigh and a proud grunt. "Loki, rest that rushing mind of yours. That is an order."
Despite his father's firmer hold and the boy's struggles for air, the prince grasped the edge of his bed to rise. "Then I can — do it — myself."
Fandral caught the sight of as warm a smile as Queen Frigga's. "You are as stubborn as the eternal elves." He tenderly pushed him back down, then tucked him in again. "Hush and sleep. Thor will come to his senses."
"Quite counterfactual."
"Loki, hush." The All-Father then weaved a sleeping spell into the web of those already inside him.
There came the awkward moment in the evening where Loki was alone for a grand total of two minutes. The healers would do their rounds around the palace, the All-Mother dined with her companions, and the All-Father penned the latest reports in his records. Of course All-Father would finish first, which Loki knew very well.
However, that eve he knew he had not been left alone.
"Fandral," he whispered. The warrior jolted up from his cat nap in the chair nearest the young prince.
"Yes, prince?"
"You have to — carry me."
"... What?"
"Thor is an — animal without me. Quick."
"But you must—"
"Shut. Up. Pick. Up."
That was how Fandral found himself committing treason the second time in his whole two-thousand years. He ignored the sharp pain in his shoulder along with his nagging conscience and gathered the wilting prince up into his arms.
"Left," said Loki once they stepped outside of the healing room.
"But the stairs are at right."
Dying or not, the younger could fling daggers with his glare alone along with his screaming whisper. "Treason requires covertness you bloody imbecile — Ahh!"
Fandral panicked at the prince grasping his chest. He ran left and scrambled to place Loki on solid ground. "What hurts? I can race back for analgesics."
Loki kicked his legs out from under him. "Get me to the damned Bifrost!"
"Alright, alright."
With some more of Loki's guiding through the shadows, they reached Heimdall undetected. The younger managed to get onto his own feet, but Fandral held him steady. By the looks of the Gatekeeper's sword already in place, it was clear Heimdall had seen their quest.
"Loki," he said, his golden eyes resting upon him without any perceivable emotion.
The prince glared at him. "Listen. You will open — the gate for me — or I will do it — myself."
Heimdall considered him a moment longer in silence, then he turned and activated the bridge. "Whatever the cost, stop your brother."
"I know."
With that, Heimdall stepped outside of the Bifrost as rainbow lights flooded the golden dome. They were both sucked into Yggdrasil in the protective veins of ancient seidr. Then they touched ground in the midst of an ocean of smoldering Fire Giant corpses. Ashes crumbled off their charcoal bodies.
The only sounds were that of cracking lightning and yelling or dying Giants. Thor had morphed into berserk Thor, who had obliterated half the population of Giants.
Fandral helped Loki stand, but when the younger prince saw the sight of small and enormous crippled corpses, ashen bodies and those encased in broken golden armor, he fell to his knees heaving. Sif, Hogun, and Volstagg ran towards them, their eyes wide and bloodshot as their bodies.
"Loki! Oh thank Odin," exclaimed Volstagg.
Sif marched right up to him. "It is about bloody time you picked your pathetic backside up. Your brother is fucking insane!"
Loki nodded into the ashes of Muspelheim. He felt like he was melting, but he forced his liquid back to hold him up."I can do it."
"You better do something to help for once!"
Fandral found himself shoving her onto her backside at the insult. "Shut that damn mouth of yours for once. He has been busy dying just as much as you."
And that was the first time any of them had ever seen Sif's coarse personality melt away. Her eyes jumped from Fandral to the younger prince. Tossing aside her weapons, she scrambled to help Thor's little brother up with worry dripping off her skin.
"I am fine," Loki argued with a feeble attempt to push her away. Then he tried to stand on his own, but everything in his body felt like water.
"Oh gods. Oh gods," Sif panicked aloud. "Fandral, did you sneak him out?" The dashing nodded. She tumbled backwards. "Holy Helheim, we all die today, if not here then by Odin."
Fandral pulled her up to her feet. "Quiet, and help me get him to Thor."
"That animal cannot distinguish between friends and foes. I do not dare."
"Sif, just trust him. He has done this before. He knows what to do." When she still refused to help, he turned to Volstagg and Hogun.
"No," rushed the big one, "I have a family. I...I cannot risk a treason summon."
"I will help then," said Hogun the Grim. "Warriors die together."
"Yes, thank you for your never-ending optimism. Hurry."
The two carried him as close as they dared before they retreated at the bodies flying towards them. Thor crushed Giants left and right without a moment of break. Lightning rippled over his skin like water over fish scales.
The older prince whirled around to see the new smaller body crawling closer to him. With a roar he ran towards it, Mjölnir ready. Loki barely dodged the hit.
"Thor, stop," he yelled at the top of his shriveled lungs. "No more. No. More."
He did not. He grabbed Loki up by his flimsy infirmary gown and raised his weapon, but Loki punched him straight in the windpipe milliseconds before his end. Thor fell backwards, choking and rasping, while Loki rained to the ground. Something that wasn't supposed to crack did so in his body.
"You barbarous cow!" With his last drops of energy, he propped his pulsing upper body up. "Stop. Look around you! You've stomped out enough lives to fill your blasted grave."
"Odin, help us," Sif breathed.
"Why is he not doing the spell?" asked Volstagg in the middle of an anxiety attack.
"Because he is dying," the not-so-dashing-anymore one grumbled.
Berserk Thor seemed to not hear his little brother. He plucked him up again, then tossed him towards the ground. Loki couldn't even scream from the pain.
Thor came back again; picked him up again, but this time his crazed power calmed. Through eyes flashing with the raw power of electrons, he saw the state of his baby brother. Mjölnir dropped from his grip. Though lightning still crackled underneath his skin, the older rushed to set him down, then fell at his side.
"Brother?" he frantically tapped Loki's newly ashened cheeks. "Loki!"
"Shut up."
"Father told me you were getting better."
Loki tried to grin despite the blackness over his eyes and the agonizing pain all over his body. "Am I dead yet?"
"No."
"Then I am — not doing half bad."
The Giants surrounded the princes and the warriors, but it was Odin's blinding appearance that made them all shriek and bolt away from the cold magic of the Bifrost.
Odin marched past the Warriors without so much as a glance, and tore his youngest from his oldest's arms. In a blink, Heimdall brought them all back, but rather than scolding Thor's irrational behavior, the All-Father broke into a run with his youngest in arms to meet the healers halfway across the bridge.
They all went to their homes, awaiting a trial for what had transpired, but no such claim came about. The All-Father summoned the dangerous art of black magic to obliterate the mutated cells in Loki's body, which made him even weaker.
In time however, Loki's body rebuilt itself. But time was also cruel, because those who knew of the fiasco including the Warriors forgot of the part Loki played in saving thousands upon thousands of lives in face of other missions.
The credit went to Thor for stopping the Muspelheim civil war after all. Oh, and Loki minded, considering his act of bravery and devotion to his brother had placed him at the threshold of death, but he never said a word.
Then he said nothing about his silvertongue saving them in Nidavellir.
Then he said nothing about his glamour being the reason he stole the Eye of Adonis back for Asgard's vault when the Warriors weren't clever enough.
Then he said nothing about his real mist veiling them in Nornheim.
He said nothing about many things, until he screamed so loud but none of them recognized his voice.
Fandral's eyes light up where he sits in the shadows. He's found the missing variable. If he knew what happened the day Thor was banished to Midgard, then maybe he could piece the puzzle together, because that had to be the day Loki screamed.
Maybe, if he asks the right questions, he can find the prince again.
